Becoming Lauren Reynolds
by x-MJ-x
Summary: Working for the CIA was never going to be an easy job. Plucked from her life, Emily Prentiss is faced by a world of covert operations and secrets. A rookie in the field, she believes that she can take on anyone, defeat any foe. Until him. Ian Doyle. Thrown into his world of criminality and charged with the task of bringing him to justice, just who will she have to become?


**Hey lovely people :-) **

**So it's me again, I hope you're not fed up with my writing because the CM writing bug won't go away and I have a couple more stories planned yet. This one's a little different for me, if I write Emily, it's always opposite Hotch and this time I'm experimenting with using Doyle as the secondary character... I know that it could be dangerous (he is after all!) but I hope it works out. **

**Please be aware of the potential for spoilers from 6x18 **_**Lauren, **_**I think that's probably obvious given the title of this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. **

**My author's note is the same as ever: I DO NOT own Criminal Minds, its plots or characters and all recognisable dialogues will be clearly marked in italics.**

* * *

_**Suffragist Lucy Stone said: "My name is my identity and must not be lost."**_

"_Lauren Reynolds... That's your cover. Let me hear you say it." Sean McAllister instructed, studying the nervous features of the newest recruit to their cell. _

_In truth he thought it might be a little too soon to give her such a big assignment, she was smart and was proving that the people in the Heavens of this hallowed agency had certainly been right to handpick her. She was foolhardy and possessed stealth in measures he had not seen in a long time, but the fact still remained that she had only been with the cell for six months. Although she had been briefed on the Intel they currently possessed, he simply couldn't be sure that she was ready for this assignment. She was barely out of training and whilst she was not a girl, he sometimes caught a glimpse of the woman who was a fledgling in this business... An inexperienced spy. These glimpses were always fleeting, there and then hidden - well beneath the indifferent mask she had been taught to wear, but still there was evidence that they existed and that was dangerous – not just for her but for everyone in the cell. One mistake on her part could jeopardise the entire operation and more importantly the lives of everyone with knowledge of this assignment. _

_Of course from McAllister's point of view, there was also the fact that in the short space of time he had known her, she had come to be a person who intrigued him, captivating him to the point of distraction and making him wish there was more between them than kinship and professional loyalty... but he was trained to remain detached and that was what he would be. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't worry about her or lose sleep over her questionable safety night after night – he already was and the assignment was only just beginning. _

_He had voiced his concerns to his superiors, had even suggested Tsia Mosley as an alternative option for the assignment but this had immediately been dismissed. Tsia did not fit the 'type' – physically she would not work in the way they needed their female operative to on this particular case. It had to be Emily Prentiss. She was an essential and non-negotiate-able part of the assignment and that was their final word on the subject. She was the key to cementing their theories on Doyle's knowledge concerning the identity of Valhalla; she was their only hope of taking him down. After months of collaborative work, they were finally admitting that their methods were indeed fallible and exhaustive and they were playing the last card they had in the deck – the honey trap. Sean was loathe to believe that Emily was the only agent who fitted the criteria, but the 'Gods' had spoken and he could only obey. _

_He watched her now as they sat in the black van half a block away from the 'Black Shamrock', the pub where they had been informed she would surely find the mole – 'the man' – and Doyle himself. Her eyes were fixed forward and she didn't even seem to register that he had even spoken to her. She sucked in a breath and craned her neck up the road, trying to catch a glimpse of him before he entered, but their position did not allow for visuals to be made. That was why he had parked here. _

_After a time, she drew down the visor from overhead of the passenger's side and stared at her reflection in the small vanity mirror. She wiped some excess lip colour from the left corner of her mouth and sighed heavily, like undertaking the task was the greatest burden she could have imagined. – He had to admit, he agreed with her. But then she squeezed her eyes shut before flicking them open again and he noticed, even from his profile view of her, that something had changed in the expression of her eyes – there was fire there where previously there had been fright and he swelled with pride when he considered that she was doing better than he had imagined she would – it surprised him that she was holding up this well. _

"_I am Lauren Reynolds." She told him with a sense of certainty – like she really believed it and just for a minute he had to wonder whether he had ever really known Emily Prentiss at all, or indeed if she had always been this woman. _

"_Good. Now just don't forget it." He murmured as he watched her adjusting the top button on the military style shirt she wore. _

"_I won't." She promised with a steely tone that dared him to challenge her. _

"_Don't push him too hard. He has to trust you, to believe that you care about him." Sean told her. _

"_I know, I've been trained, I've seen the photographs – I won't be as reckless as Gemma was – I know what's at stake. I won't end up like her." She told him, though her voice wavered just a little as she thought about those photos – Gemma Miller's face had been barely recognisable after Doyle had finished with her and as for her other body parts... well that didn't bear thinking about... _

"_That's what they all say Emily – I won't be as stupid as the last girl, I know my cover well enough, he won't get to me... But he always does. You have to be smart and don't do anything rash – this guy is good and he'll be on his guard after Gemma but I think... well we all think that you'll be different. You're more his type, you have similar cultural interests and you're fluent in multiple languages , like him and that should mean that your intelligence appeals to him. All you have to do is use it stay alive and safe. You know that everything rides on your success, if you don't get him to open up about his connection to Valhalla we can't substantiate a thing – you know that right?" He asked, turning to her and staring into the endless infernos of her eyes. _

"_Then I'd better not screw up." She told him resolutely. _

"_It's approaching 8 'o' clock, you should get going – we don't want them to get suspicious on your first day." He remarked after a silent lapse in her defiant attitude. _

_She drew in a long breath then as her finger went to the seat belt release and she only let it out when the lack of oxygen became a problem. "I've had enough training right?" She asked somewhat naively as an image of Ian Doyle, the burly Irish IRA operative filled her mind. _

"_You know, sometimes there are things in this life that no amount of training can prepare us for. You'll experience things around Doyle that you'll hate, things you'll never understand and no one can prepare you for those... but... as far as the assignment goes, you know what to look for, you know what questions to ask and most importantly you know how to get yourself out. If there's anything you need, anything at all – you have the secure line details... Just remember if anything bad happens you let me know and I'll come and get you out of it alright?" Sean half begged, wanting to ensure he knew she was as safe as she could be before he threw her to proverbial lions... _

_She nodded absent mindedly noticing that he was going through the motions of saying goodbye and leaving her here in Boston alone with this man... _

"_Emily?" He asked cautiously, not liking the sudden paleness of her face. _

"_Yes. I know." She replied simply, unbuckling her seat belt and grabbing her travel bag and purse from the back seat. _

_He nodded curtly, trying to remain distanced and controlled so that he wouldn't reach out and stop her from going. _

"_Well wish me luck then." She said, quirking her eyebrow a little at his failure to do so. _

"_Good luck." He murmured as she got out of the van and slung her bag over her shoulder. _

_As she moved to close the door, she felt his hand close around the crook of her elbow pulling her down a little until her face was millimetres from his. _

"_Be safe Emily." He told her, the severity in his voice unmistakable. _

"_Let's just get this bastard Ok?" She replied with far more gusto than she felt and he couldn't help but think that she was taking this situation a little too lightly, behaving a little too recklessly but then all she had seen were pictures... she didn't appreciate the true extent of the evil that dwelled within Ian Doyle... _

_She shut the door with a wry smile and walked away up the road and towards the black building and as he watched her go he wondered whether she understood just what was being asked of her and what she would be required to do on this assignment..._

* * *

_**Two weeks later... **_

She stared in the mirror, her eyes strangely not recognising the person who looked back at her. With her slightly lighter, honeyed hair and heavier makeup she was further from herself than she ever thought she would be and yet she knew she had barely even started to make a break in this case. She was still Emily Prentiss enough to think of this as a case but with every passing day she found that she pushed that rational, level headed agent in her to the furthest recesses of her mind in favour of letting Lauren Reynolds do the thinking. After all it was Lauren who understood him, who sympathised with him and that made her, of the two people who currently dwelled within her body, the safest option...tactically, or at least that's what she tried to make herself believe.

She heaved in a long breath as she picked up the tube of mascara which lay to her left and applied it in a thick layer. Tonight she was being 'showcased' and she knew he would want her at her best. As she screwed the lid back on and looked at her reflection in the mirror, she noticed the differences between her true self and her cover were barely even noticeable – a little extra makeup, a little more sparkle in her eyes but to the woman herself she felt worlds apart from the person she had always thought that she was.

In the low lighting of the bathroom she was sure that Ian would be able to see her – the real her, hiding just under the surface but she was always surprised when she survived another day. Fourteen days, two weeks – that was how long she had been on this assignment and to her it felt an eternity... An eternity during which she had not brought her cell any closer to finding out the truth about Valhalla, about Doyle and about his activities as a working member of the IRA here in Boston... What she did know, the only achievement in all of this - was that she had lasted longer than any of the other female operatives who had tried to get inside of his head and she prided herself on this fact.

She also prided herself on the fact that she had somehow managed to stave off his more lascivious advances. She knew what he wanted, but she was certain that she would not be the one to give it to him. It was dangerous she knew, to deny him, but she had a pretty principled line and she refused to cross it – even for the sake of national security. She wasn't stupid, she let him kiss her, she let him put his hands on her but in the two weeks that she had been sleeping in his bed she had never once let him remove a single item of her clothing. She knew right now that in denying him she presented him a challenge, a turn on and she could see from the sparkle in his eyes that he enjoyed it, but she had to wonder how long that would last and if she really was fooling herself that she could complete this assignment without giving up her principles... That was the problem with being one person on the outside and another on the inside... she could say that she really understood the _Jekyll and Hyde_ debate...

Lauren Reynolds presented herself as a woman who was intrigued by Ian Doyle, who had the same business interests as him and who wanted him but Emily Prentiss shut down her ability to act on those impulses purely because she knew that she could never allow her body to be abused for the sake of the 'greater good'. She was aware that eventually Lauren's views on the subject of intimacy and sex would have to take over but for now, whilst she could hang on to the integrity of her true personality, whilst she still had the self-conscious awareness that she was not in fact Lauren Reynolds but rather Emily Prentiss, she was going to do her damnedest to ensure that she didn't have to do anything she wasn't comfortable with.

There was a knock at the door and only a couple of seconds passed before it was opened without the courtesy of his waiting for her to acquiesce his entrance and suddenly the only though which filled her head was that she had to be Lauren Reynolds for him...

She smiled weakly in the mirror at him, studying his strong features and crooked smile which in its way, leant well to the rugged handsomeness of his face. His eyes held hers for a while before they dropped, hoping to catch a glimpse of her unclothed body but flicking up in disappointment as he realised she wore a tightly knotted bathrobe.

"Is everything Ok baby?" She asked and even in her own mind she knew it sounded false – but it seemed to work for him.

His brow was furrowed as he stepped further into the room, coming to stand behind her so that there was no way to avoid his gaze in the mirror. His hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her into him and rested his lips against the back of her elegant neck – just being close to her seemed to ease his tense mind.

So many times she had seen the dullness in his eyes, the stress and tension in his shoulders and she had wondered if masterminding some of the IRA's most dangerous operations didn't take its toll on his humanity. For every fibre of her being that hated him and what he had done, there was an inch, a sliver of herself - her real self - which pitied him...

"Yeah I'm Ok." He replied, his arm rubbing against the back of his neck as if he was trying to prove that it was true.

"Rough day at the office?" She asked as if they were any ordinary couple and he was in any ordinary job. Both statements were utterly untrue of course – they weren't an 'ordinary couple' and he did not have an ordinary job, there was not even an office to speak of... but they both pretended that there was – for him because he wished to forget the horrors of what he did and what he saw and for her, because it was the only way she could deal with this situation and refrain from killing him right where he stood – that would have been easier, simpler but she was aware that this thing, however deeply connected to Doyle, was a whole lot bigger than one man and his gun and so they did this merrily polite dance around the truth...

"Hmmm." He mumbled, pressing a hot kiss to the back of her neck as his hands tried to slip beneath the robe. Hers though, stopped him.

She grabbed both his hands in hers in a mark of affection so as not to rouse his suspicions and smoothed her thumbs over the blisters and calluses he had gained from repeated use of multiple calibre guns...

"Want to talk it through?" She asked, seizing an opportunity to probe for information.

"No. What I want is to take you out, get myself a pint of Guinness and forget." He told her resolutely, relaxing his stance against her and hugging their joined hands around her body in a mark of possession.

"I'll help you forget baby." She purred as she took one hand from his and reached into her makeup bag in search of her red lipstick. She pulled the lid off and raised it to her lips, feeling the frustration of their close position as she tried to manoeuvre her own arms around his...

He studied her as she placed the colorant to her lips and then before she could apply it, he plucked it from her fingers and threw it onto the counter top.

"Not red tonight. Pink..." He told her fumbling through her cosmetics until he found the right tube. "To match." He continued, his index finger trailing from her ribcage down her abdomen and across the apex of her thighs, his touch burning her even through the bathrobe until there could be no doubt as to what he meant.

She let out a gasp at his forwardness as she realised what he was expecting from tonight and he merely chuckled, taking her disgust for innocence as he let her go and made his way to the door.

"Oh and wear the dress I bought you." He told her, his tone commanding as he left and shut the door behind him.

* * *

She took a deep steadying breath as the car, the second in a small convoy, strangely always the second despite his evident power within his own cell, pulled up outside of some unrecognisable club marked only by a peeling golden four leaf clover.

"We're not going to the_ Shamrock_?" She asked a little nervously. She felt unsettled about going to new places with him, the further she travelled, the further she got away from familiar faces and quick escape roots...

"Th_e Shamrock _is no place for a lady, I'm only sorry that our first meeting had to be there." He told her, picking up her hand and giving it a light squeeze, offering her no further explanation... "I want you to meet some of the civilised people in the organisation." He told her as he helped her out of the car and dismissed the convoy – holding his arm out to her in a gentlemanly fashion which belied his ruthlessness.

She said nothing as she walked with him through the dark entranceway and down onto the main floor of the club, her hand silently clutching at the purse she carried, in it the cell with a direct link to Sean McAllister's secure line – somehow she had feeling she might need him tonight...

* * *

Ian had not been lying. Although she could tell that the men and their respective wives, girlfriends and _others _were all somehow caught up in the IRA, they did not flaunt it as the men who frequented the _Black Shamrock_ did. Nevertheless, there was that slight tension about the place, the kind that came with a struggle for power. She felt slightly overwhelmed, although in theory she possessed more sway than the entire room put together she was still the outsider here, she was in the inferior position and this irked her.

As they walked across the club and he led her to a booth which looked out onto the entire floor in a somewhat _Godfather- like_ manner, she felt maybe a hundred pairs of dark, hungry eyes on her and it made her skin crawl. She was the new meat, the boss' squeeze and he had brought her here to show them that.

"Ian everybody's looking at us... Are you sure you wouldn't rather go somewhere more... private?" She asked, in truth she knew that being here in the centre of the club was probably the best place for her – from here she was able to see anyone who approached Ian and anyone acting suspiciously, but there was something about those eyes boring into her, undressing her mentally, which made her want to run out of there right now...

"Lauren this is where I sit... always... They're looking because they wish they were here with you, but they know... if any one of them tries to make a move for you, they know what will happen... They're not stupid – they can see you're mine..." He told her firmly, daring her to challenge him.

"I am...I am yours." She insisted leaning in and stroking the back of his neck affectionately.

He grabbed her pulling her into his lap roughly until their faces were inches apart, he tugged at her hair, pulling her closer until she could smell the Guinness on his breath all too clearly...

"If only that were true... They think that you've given yourself to me... but we both know that's not true don't we Lauren?" He asked, his voice filled with fire and intensity – tonight he meant business.

"I... I know, it's just... I want it to be special... you and me... I don't want to rush..." She tried playing every excuse she would have used on a normal guy, not stopping to think that he was far from normal.

"Don't do that Lauren; don't play the innocent little Catholic school girl on me... "

"I'm not... honestly... I guess I was just teasing... every girl tries it... it's a test you see... is he really serious about me?" She giggled like the_ little Catholic school girl_ she had never wanted to be...

"Well... I am_ very_ serious about you." He told her, thrusting up against her and making her all too aware of his hardness for her, which rested between her parted thighs...

She drew in a sharp breath which was in actuality a gasp of panic but thankfully could be misconstrued as a mark of desire...

* * *

She scooted a little closer to him, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in this situation but knowing that she had to go through the motions of making him believe that she was sorry for her abstinence. She pressed her lips onto his, initiating a passionate and raunchy kiss in which teeth and tongues did battle and blood was drawn... It was all she could do in a moment where the Emily Prentiss in her had frozen and Lauren Reynolds had taken over...

She thanked goodness that something in her had intuitively known how to respond in this situation. As she felt his tongue twisting with hers and his hands sliding beneath the scarlet fabric of the dress she wore, she remembered seeing the look of pure rage at the thought that she was going to try to deny him again and for the first time in fourteen days she had been genuinely terrified for her life. She supposed this had to do with the fact that thus far, she had not been made witness to his unspeakable crimes but rather had been aware of the slight threat her knowledge of them posed to her safety. Right now as she drew back and began nipping at his lips as lovingly as she could, she understood how much anger and hatred the man possessed and exactly what that meant he was capable of. She realised now that she had to do what she had been avoiding, she had to commit to becoming Lauren Reynolds.

Oxygen was becoming a problem, he was keeping her locked in the kiss far longer than she was used to and she was becoming quite panicked by the fact that perhaps he was trying to kill her. As she wriggled restlessly in his lap she was considering the logic of reaching for her concealed _Glock_ but then as her panic reached terrifying heights he released her, his fingers tracing her cheek affectionately.

"You will be mine Lauren, tonight – everything changes." He told her, his voice stern and commanding and she knew then that she was being trapped by a man who was no longer asking but rather telling, someone who would take without a second thought for the one thing she had thought this assignment could never have – her principles.

She stared out over his shoulder fixing her eyes on the multiple doors and wondering if she started running now and didn't stop whether she would ever be safe again, whether she could ever go home to Chicago and the banal security of her former unit from which she had been so savagely plucked by the Central Intelligence Agency. For the first time in the six months she had been working in this job she wished for nothing more than her little bed in her tiny five floor walk up, her beat up Volvo and her job as a terrorism analyst, however bored she might have been becoming. She realised that being bored and alive was better than being a jumped up adrenaline junkie who was facilitating her own death...

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them quickly as she had done several times before, feeling the temporary calm of having Lauren Reynolds control her.

"Tonight..." She whispered hoping that her lack of promising anything definitive would be enough for now, until she could think of a viable excuse at least... would using her period work? She wasn't on it... but could she fake it?

She pushed down on his shoulders as she stood up, mild alarm coursing through her as she felt his iron grip on her waist. "Where are you going?" He growled, possessiveness colouring his tone.

"I have to go to the ladies room – I won't be long – I promise." She smiled leaning down and pressing a breezy kiss to his lips.

His gaze looked unsettled but after a while he loosened his grip and let her go. She reached down and grabbed her purse and began her retreat towards the corridor which apparently housed the restrooms.

She walked calmly, ensuring that she didn't look back at him or around her as she walked down the corridor, making a show of going into the bathroom and noticing mercifully, a fire escape at the back of the room. She waited for the gaggle of giggling girlfriends (who had stopped preening just long enough to whisper something about her being _Ian Doyle's new whore_ before fixing her with a death stare) to finish applying their lip gloss and leave, before she opened the heavy fire-retardant door and stepped out on to the fire escape.

She looked around her checking she was completely alone before she pulled out the cell phone which would link her directly to Sean and to some semblance of safety and hit the call button...

* * *

The phone rang for several tense seconds before it connected and when a familiar voice came on the line, she knew she was doomed.

"_Lauren." He spoke in his soft but sarcastic English accent. _

"_Where's Sean?" She asked, her voice shaking as she realised the danger of calling her colleagues from here. She wasn't even sure of her location; all she could do was hope that they would be able to isolate her location via GPS. _

"_He can't come to the phone right now - why are you calling?" He asked sardonically. _

"_Sean said he'd be there when I needed him – I need him now." Emily replied firmly. _

"_What happened?" Clyde asked, mild concern ebbing at his sarcasm. _

"_Put Sean on or Tsia... Hey anybody but you." Emily told him, she had never liked the guy and she wasn't about to discuss this situation with him. _

"_They're all working... which is more than I can say for you – we have pictures you know, of you lazing around the compound in a tiny swimsuit... it's no wonder Doyle has taken such a shine to you." Clyde commented, the suggestion apparent in his voice. _

"_You're disgusting." Emily spat. _

"_Look not that I don't love all these compliments, but it's me or no one and you're obviously calling for a reason, so come on – talk to me." He replied brushing off her tone easily. _

"_It's Doyle... He wants... Oh God... He wants me to... He thinks we're going to have sex tonight." Simply saying the words made her shudder as she waited for her colleague's reaction – probably something filthy. _

"_You mean you haven't already?" His tone sounded surprised. "Tell me how you've managed to stay alive for two weeks." He continued after a moment. _

Emily's heart was racing, Clyde actually expected her to have given into Doyle. Was she the only one who was disgusted by the thought that as an agent she was expected to become 'Doyle's new whore'?

"_What are you saying?" Emily asked, refusing to believe that this was being asked of her. _

"_Jesus Lauren isn't it obvious? You're supposed to be his girlfriend. What kind of girlfriend doesn't have sex with her boyfriend? You share the same religion as him but that doesn't mean that you have to be pious. You're not bloody naive – you know how men work, you know that sex is a major part of this case – surely they briefed you on this? Surely Sean explained?" Clyde replied, the disbelief evident in his voice. _

"_I guess he thought there were some things training couldn't prepare me for. That's what he told me, I guess this is what he meant." She sighed, facing up to that ever dawning reality. _

"_Look, you know the success of this case is riding on your shoulders – this is bigger than just you, it's bigger even than Doyle – this is about national security and you have a job to do." He told her. _

"_Oh so what you're saying is I should prostitute myself for his pleasure?" She asked sarcastically. "I bet you love that thought don't you?" She continued, increasingly aware of the length of this phone call and the potential for the arousal of suspicion. _

"_Look – I know you don't like me very much but listen Ok – I don't like the thought of you out there on this case alone anymore than Sean or Tsia or Jeremy – Hell anyone involved with this but it's the way it is. We've exhausted every other lead and all other possibilities, what we've learnt from this is that sometimes advanced technology doesn't always work – sometimes it's necessary to use more... traditional methods." He told her and although she sensed sympathy, she knew he was enjoying this. _

"_Traditional methods that leave me in a compromising position." She replied sourly. _

"_Try not to think of it as you – just remember that you are Lauren Reynolds, so it's Lauren who's going to be with him Ok?" He tried to soothe. _

"_Ok I am Lauren Reynolds." She whispered. _

"_That's the spirit – now just remember that your goal is to gather information – keep that in mind." He told her. _

"_I will, I know..." She told him. _

"_Stay safe." Clyde told her. _

"_I'll try." She told him resignedly before hanging up and slipping back inside of the bathroom._

* * *

She was just applying a fresh coat of lipstick when she heard the door open behind her. The bathroom had been deserted for the duration of her time in here and she had a feeling she knew who was coming in without even looking. It was something about the way the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand up when he came close that alerted her to his presence and unsettled her immeasurably.

"What happened to you?" He asked his tone impatient. If there was one thing she had learnt about him, it was that you didn't keep him waiting...

"I'm sorry baby, there was a queue." She replied casually as she slipped the tube back into her purse, pushing the cell she had just used further into its depths.

"You know people were starting to talk, it was looking like you'd run away, stood me up... I don't like to be laughed at Lauren." He told his tone deadpan and unforgiving.

"How could you think I'd run away? I promise you I was just waiting for a stall that's all." She told him, taking a step closer and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Well it seems to be empty now." He observed, his eyes flashing.

She knew what he meant, what he wanted and she simply couldn't face it. She hadn't 'done it' in a bathroom since eleventh grade, with Jacob Delany if she remembered rightly and the thought of being in such a confined space with a man like Doyle scared her witless.

"Not here Ian, please... Why don't we got out there and show them exactly where I am... Right by your side... Please, let's just get out of here... Take me home." She half begged in her desperation for a little privacy.

He said nothing as he took her hand and pulled her out of the bathroom and across the club, never once relinquishing his hold as he paraded her in front of all those who had ever mocked him. She was his... She would be his...

* * *

The journey in the car had been tense, hot and heavy. There had been moments when they had both stared out of the windows contemplating the changes that tonight would bring. In her mind she could only think about the fact that after tonight she would be known as the girl who would do anything for a case – she would either therefore be respected as the no nonsense ball-breaker she wanted to be known as or she would be mocked and branded as a whore, open to all kinds of vicious jibes and torments... that was if she ever made it out of this thing alive.

In his head who knew what he was really thinking? She could see the way his body was already reacting to the thought of what was about to happen and several times this physical reaction had caused him to grab her and push forceful, uncomfortable kisses to her lips and skin... However as they drew closer to the complex where he lived, she found herself less repulsed and more excited, the stirrings of long lost feelings rising within her, feelings that could only belong to Lauren Reynolds.

He dismissed the convoy for a second time and spoke briefly with O' Shaughnessy the burly Irish man who stood guard at the gates before he lead her through the quiet hallways of the house towards the master suite.

* * *

As she watched him flick on the light and move towards the bed where he took a seat, she experienced a mild pang of panic but she quickly forced it away. She was not inexperienced as a lover, she knew how to be what a man needed, she just needed to figure out what got Doyle going and she' d be fine. She had enough experience of 'faking it' and that was exactly what she planned to do tonight. As long as she didn't give him anything of herself, as long as she did not allow him to pleasure her (the real her) in any way she would be fine. She swallowed the fleeting thought that she was thinking exactly like a prostitute as she hung back a little bit, standing nervously just inside the door.

He watched her with dark eyes as she chewed her lip and teetered a little on the incredibly high heels she wore. He wasn't used to women like her – head strong, fierce and in control. His women now were pay per hour, no names and no strings – simple. But she was mystical and strange and somehow managed to maintain an aloof sexiness which placed her just out of his league despite the fact that they both worked in the same business and in many ways - frightening ways - could be considered as cut from the same cloth. There was a certain distance between them although he had been treating her with a kind of courtesy that he had not shown any woman since Amelia... but that had been five years ago when he had still been human, when he had still been capable of feeling – when he had felt a love so strong that his heart had almost burst when members of the _PA, _the local protestant faction had shot her in cold blood just because of her association with him.

She was the reason he had turned into this person, this ruthless and unfeeling warrior, because for the time that he had loved her he had been weak and in his organisation weakness was death... so he fought, it was all he could do – taking orders like a grunt and working his way up the ranks until he had been the one choosing kills and organising terrorist activities and until there was no one to give him orders or to challenge his authority. He had fought until he had become _Valhalla - _A name that was whispered around his community with a fearful sense of respect and often sheer fright. Of course no one knew that Ian Doyle, the broken man with a five year old son to protect had created the name and was responsible for the actions carried out in its honour. No one knew that the poor little Catholic boy whose mother had named him for those Godforsaken Protestants was the master of his own life and theirs... He did it all for her, for Amelia and for their son – Declan. They were the reason he fought this war, they were the reason he was winning...

She was also the reason why he had ordered the deaths of nearly every other woman he had been with since her death. Either he felt so repulsed by the women when he had done with them or they tried to defy him, some even tried to work covertly for international and governmental agencies. But Lauren was different – she was sensitive and she cared about the humanity he had left in him, she was loyal and faithful and he trusted her. Plus her background checked out and her resourcefulness was second to none... she was good for business and she was good for him. He would never admit to her so soon, but he felt the stirrings of his tortured heart and a rising of those old feelings... he was falling in love with her and maybe, if she stayed loyal and true there could be a future for them.

He sat back then, taking a deep breath as he watched her fiddling absent mindedly with a strand of her hair as she appeared to wait for instructions. He said nothing but rather beckoned her to the space in front of him.

She smiled nervously as she walked towards him, her hands going for the laces on the front of the corseted dress he had purchased for her and beginning to untie them. She finally understood why he had chosen this dress, it was evident that he has envisioned this scenario. She kept her eyes trained on his as her hands pushed the fabric apart revealing the tiniest hint of the sheer black lace she wore beneath it.

"What do you want Ian?" She asked as she shrugged the dress down her slender shoulders, catching it on her elbows and exposing her lace clad breasts and toned midriff to him...

He did not answer, his jaw locked tight and his eyes almost black as he stared at her and she took this as a sign to continue. In a matter of seconds the scarlet fabric of her dress was pooling at her feet and she stepped out of it quickly, pushing it to one side with her black heeled foot.

"Jesus." He whispered as he took in her lithe body clad only in the two scraps of lace which clung to her slight curves perfectly.

He didn't know what had quite come over him. His mind was screaming at him to get up rip off the remainder of her clothes and throw her down on the bed but his body suddenly seemed leaden, susceptible to her advances and willing to follow her lead.

"Come on baby what do you need?" She purred as moved around the side of the bed and knelt behind him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

She leant forward as her skilled fingers began to massage him through the thick black leather of his jacket and she nipped his ear lightly as she felt him release a low groan.

"So tense..." She crooned as she felt a knot in the muscles of his shoulder.

"Help me forget Lauren..." He mumbled as she began removing his jacket, slowly, carefully and inch by inch – she sensed something feral about him, like at any moment he could turn on her, flip her over and ravage her body savagely... as long as she kept moving slowly, almost beneath his awareness then she could control the moment when he would thrust inside of her. There was no doubt that it would come, it was just a case of when and if she had anything to do with it, it would be as far in the future as possible.

"I will baby, it's just you and me... nothing else matters right now... no one else matters..." She told him pausing between every thought to press small burning kisses to the back of his neck as he absent mindedly shrugged his jacket off.

Her fingers continued to knead at the tension which was inherently present in his body as he twisted his head around in an attempt to catch her lips with his. She indulged him, lowering her own head a fraction and granting him access to her already kiss swollen lips. She sighed into his mouth as his fierce tongue stroked her own soft walls in a way which was fast becoming familiar to her, almost comforting -like for everything she didn't know about him and for all those things she didn't understand, there was something amidst all the evil that they had shared, something pure and untarnished – driven by the intensity of his feelings for her... It made her own deceit seem less apparent, it made her feel like she was living through this moment rather than simply playing a part...

"You're good with your hands..." He mumbled as her fingers slipped down his back pulling at the hem of his grey t-shirt.

She pulled it clean off and discarded it recklessly, finding that the odd sensation she had felt in the car was becoming her dominant emotion – she was genuinely excited by this situation. For a moment she was silent, stunned into being so by the sight of his body beneath her gaze. He was well toned and sculpted as she knew, he had a rigorous and gruelling six am workout regime to thank for that, but what had shocked her the most was the old healed scars and lacerations which patterned his back.

She let out a small gasp, they knew he had had a tough upbringing but they did not know many details of the boy who had become the man they wished to incarcerate for the remainder of his days.

He laughed a little, a deep throaty chuckle which did not sound heartfelt before he responded. "It's not as bad as it looks love." He told her in his thick Irish drawl, something which possessed a strangely comforting lilt.

"What... What happened?" She asked licking her lips and trying to control the shaking of her voice as her finger traced a particularly thick scar.

"Come on love, if you've heard one poor little Catholic boy's story you've heard them all." He sighed as she shifted until she was facing him, manoeuvring herself until she straddled him.

"I want to hear yours." She told him, not giving him the option to back out of telling her – she was aware that this story might hold the key to the case.

"There's not much to tell love, my father was just the same as every boy's on my street – a miner raised by his miner father's cruel hand and with the same view on punishment. My mother was a kind woman, a good woman orphaned and raised by the nuns of St. Mary's in Ulster but she was weak and my father took advantage of that in many ways. I'm the second of five children and as the house grew more crowded my father grew more jealous of everyone vying for my mother's attentions... he beat her senseless most nights and she would always put a brave face on it but we saw and we knew... When the bastard got tired of using her as a punch bag he looked for other targets. My brother was already in the army by this time, he was out of it far away from the screaming in the night. My father was principled in some ways and the little girls he would never touch, so I was the only reasonable target – those marks on my back, they're from my Da's belt buckle – every day for five years until I was bigger and stronger than the old bastard and he came to know the barrel of my gun... After that I took my family and we moved here to the U.S – somewhere where nobody and the IRA was keen for young boys with grudges to join the cause..." He finished, his breathing heavy and hard as he relived his tortured past.

"I'm sorry." She whispered the first genuine apology she had given him in the two weeks she had been here.

"Don't be. That son of a bitch taught me that there is no such thing as too much pain, he made me the warrior that I am – the lessons he taught me stay with me always." He replied with a passion that scared her.

"You know the priest at my church when I was a girl said we should learn from the sins of our fathers..." She murmured kissing his shoulders and down across his chest.

"Trust me I have... I will never lay a single finger to my son." He promised, the words slipping off his tongue easily as he forgot that he had yet to divulge Declan's identity to her.

"Hmmm... that's good to hear." She muttered, internalising the passion with which he mentioned a son, like it wasn't just a pipe dream but an actuality that he had a son. This was the kind of information they could use.

Her lips moved lower and she found that she had to kneel off the bed in order to gain access to the space between his ribcage and the top of his jeans. She was surprised by the way she was reacting in this situation – kissing him and maintaining contact with his body was instinctual and actually felt like something of a necessity – could it be that she actually _wanted_ him?

He growled as her fingers traced their way across some deep set and old bruising across his ribs and she heard his sharp intake of breath, not apparently from pain but because he was not used to anyone touching him there.

"Lauren... What are you...?" He asked but the words died as she shushed him, reaching up and pressing a finger to his lips.

"Tell me about these." She instructed running her fingers across the old bruises, noticing how their colouration indicated that they had been there for years. It seemed strange that they would survive that amount of time but here they were.

"Why so many questions?" He asked, his fingers tangling in her hair holding her steady.

"Why so evasive?" She shot the question back at him, quirking her eyebrow as she looked up at him. "Trust me baby... It's just you and me..." She crooned trying to encourage him to be open with her...

He swallowed hard as if trying to decide whether to silence her inquisition for good or tell her the truth and for a moment as she let her tongue peek out through her teeth and dip into his navel she was scared, of him, of this night and what she must do but most of failing to bring this man to justice...

"You know about the massacres on our people... Catholics I mean, in Ireland... The _Ulster marches, Londonderry, Bloody Sunday_... You're not from the _Emerald Isle _of course but you know – everybody knows... What those bastards did was unforgivable and those kind of scars run deep... I was too young to fight in the original IRA of course but that doesn't mean it ever stopped, that they didn't continue to conscript new talent, fresh warriors or that the cause didn't continue... Jesus that's why I'm sitting here now, because I fought when I was old enough and I fought with bloody passion until some protestant took it upon himself to bring me down a peg or two – he pistol whipped me until I'd never forget his name..." He finished and she was sure she heard a sob...

"What was his name?" She whispered mindful that it might be too probing a question.

"Ian O'Malley. Ironic isn't it?" He half chuckled.

"What is?" She asked, her fingers snaking between them and popping the button on his black jeans. She wasn't even thinking about what she was doing anymore, she was acting on impulse the way she would with any other man she really wanted to be with.

"That I fight for the same name the bastard used to fight my people..." He told her pulling her up and rolling her beneath him with a speed and grace which surprised her.

"Used? Past tense?" She asked almost afraid of the answer.

"Lauren, you know I've done some things... you know that I _have_ to do things sometimes... Ian O'Malley was another job, a problem that needed to be taken care of." He murmured his hands grasping her bra strap firmly and dragging it down.

"Did you _take care_ of O'Malley?" She breathed, a gasp accompanying her breathy words as his rough fingertips caressed her smooth skin.

"I met him again today, after ten years he still wore the smug grin he had on that day... I couldn't resist the chance to wipe it off. He was on my turf, in my neighbourhood and let's just say this time he wasn't the one holding the gun." He told her, the truth of his 'day at the office' rolling off his tongue like it meant nothing.

She stared up at him with wide eyes and although she hadn't directly expressed shock at his words, she knew it registered on her face. Right now in this intimate situation he was telling her some of his darkest secrets and only now as she was made complicit in the knowledge of his crimes did she fully understand how important it was to get this man – however much sympathy she thought she could feel for him, there was a greater part of her soul that felt the appropriate hatred she needed to remain objective on this case.

"Now love, don't tell me I've scared you off... Sometimes my job is about doing the wrong thing for the right reasons and this was one of those times." He told her as he dragged her bra strap past her elbow and off before he moved back up her body and reached for its twin.

"You could never scare me away Ian." She told him resolutely, her determination shining in her stare as she arched her back away from the mattress and waited for him to unhook her bra.

He did so with expert precision and quickly tossed it off to his right – it would not be needed for the remainder of the night anyway. A thrill coursed through her as she watched him, angled away from her slender frame and staring directly at her blushing breasts. The heat and blackness of his gaze was doing incredible things for her ego and although she was trying to remain detached, she couldn't deny that the attention of a male was something she had been craving for longer than she cared to admit...

"Jesus have mercy..." He exclaimed as his rough hand closed around her left breast, feeling it's weight and the silken, velvety skin – a texture which made his pupils dilate and his desire become painfully hard.

She felt his pain and his heightened desire as it pressed dangerously close to her thinly covered intimacy. She hadn't been with a man who exhibited such want for a long time and her heart beat faster with a cold, deep fear... He was losing control which meant that soon she would too and although that loss of control would be in a different way, hers because she would have no choice, she dreaded the moment when no fabric barriers separated them and he would push inside of her. She could sense his urgency and she knew that he would not be gentle and considerate, that he would take what he needed and give her nothing in return and this made her want to cry. She was alone here with this predator and the worst thing was that those who proclaimed to be her protectors had offered her up as willing prey...

She let out a low moan as his lips trailed down her face and jaw over her neck and across her chest, his tongue replacing the actions of his hands and causing an unsolicited ripple of pleasure to reverberate through her. She cursed him then for being a man -the one thing she needed right now - she cursed his experienced hands and lips for weakening her defences and causing her to become just a woman reacting to him in the way he wanted her to and worse still in the way that _she _wanted to...

"You like that huh love?" He chuckled as he pressed heated open mouthed kisses across both of her breasts in equal measure. His hot breath was teasing her ever tightening nipples causing them to become painfully pebbled.

She tried to ignore him, she refused to give him the satisfaction but he seemed to take her defiance as encouragement, his tongue continuing to swirl around her sensitised skin as his hands sculpted a path across her torso and moved lower, catching the edges of her lace underwear.

Her body convulsed, rolling against his involuntarily as his fingers brushed the untouched skin of her hips and she used the power of the discomfort he was creating within her to her advantage... She shoved her hands into the back of his open jeans and wrenched them down with her short nails until they crumpled around his strong thighs. As she felt his fingernails catching in the lace of her panties, she pulled his boxers down and gripped his hard length with a firmness and zeal that surprised even her...

"Mmm..." He mumbled incoherent things against her mouth as she stroked him, languorous, meticulous strokes which caused his body to shake as she wrapped her free arm around his shoulder...

"Lauren... Jesus... Lauren..." He breathed as she felt him stiffening beneath her grip, never once relinquishing her control over him, never attempting to stop her actions she continued to work him until he was letting out growls of pleasure.

"Go on baby let go, trust me... trust me..." She murmured.

He said nothing as he levered himself up baring his weight on his forearms as he felt himself release uncontrollably into her waiting hand. He hadn't experienced such pleasure for five long years, not since Amelia, but somehow Lauren Reynolds had managed to restore at least a small semblance of his humanity in one night... This woman was incredible...

"That's it baby, that's it..." She purred as he seemed to refocus on her after a short while during which she had been gauging her chances of escape after this... A short space of time in which she decided that she no longer wished for escape, only the pleasure he could give her...

"I don't like to be teased Lauren." He growled at her.

"I'm not... Oh God... I'm..." She trailed off as he ripped her panties off and traced a line from her ribcage all the down to intimacy until his tongue thrust inside of her and she couldn't think about anything other than the scream she let out.

"You're what? Tell me what you are." He commanded, his bristly cheeks brushing against her inner thighs as he nipped and kissed the skin with something that she thought resembled tenderness and just for a moment she wondered what he meant.

Was it simply that he wanted her to finish her sentence or could it be that somehow he had discovered that she had a secret? Did he know who she was... what she was? Her eyes flew open and she craned her neck to get a view of his face but he was intent on lavishing attention on her – her legs, her hips, her folds and deeper... Right then she knew the only thing on his mind was making her voice her desires, desires she shouldn't even be having, but desires that were real and... _There... _

"What are you? Come on it's not that hard is it?" He asked his breath tickling her thighs and turning her on like she couldn't believe.

"Oh it's _hard_ alright." She commented, her hips undulating against his.

He laughed then and it was deep and throaty – really sexy if she was honest with herself. "Mm you have a_ very _dirty mouth don't you love? But... you haven't answered my question." He admonished, his fingers creeping up her thighs and slipping into her intimacy...

"Oh...Oh... God... Oh God... I'm so hot for you..." She mumbled and it wasn't even a lie anymore, she found that she was hating herself less and less for giving into him...

"I know, I can feel it...I can_ taste_ it..." He thrust his tongue back inside of her and she let out an Earth shattering scream.

Her head snapped to the side and she beat her fists against the sheets in outright frustration as he continued to tease her and she raised her hips as close to his mouth as possible, suddenly crazy for any contact with him.

"Oh you want it don't you love?" He chuckled.

"Please...please... Ian..." She begged.

"Please what?" He asked crawling up her body and positioning himself between her legs as he ghosted his lips against her jaw.

"Take me! For Christ's Sake! I need you to take me!" She yelled.

"Say it again!" He instructed.

"Take me!" She half screamed as she dragged his neck down and forced their bodies to crush together...

* * *

That seemed to do it, something snapped inside of him and he threw her legs apart savagely making room for his own hulking mass. He manipulated her legs until they were wrapped around his waist, he waited a moment until he felt her body relax then he drove down into her savagely, passionately and powerfully until the scream she elicited was no longer filled with pleasure but rather pain.

"Ugh.." The sound escaped her as she tried to surpass the pain of his insistent thrusts and prove to him that she could be what he needed. She squeezed her eyes shut as she contemplated the fact that he wasn't protected – she knew he had been with innumerable women and she knew that meant that this there was every chance that she wasn't safe despite being on the pill, but then she remembered what Clyde had told her and she knew she had to do whatever it took – for the case, for her cell and for her life.

"Look at me." He ordered, his hands grasping her chin and pulling her face towards him. "Look at me Lauren." He repeated and her eyes flew open locking with his...

"There you are – there's my girl." He told her with his statement lopsided smile.

"I'm right here." She agreed and as she stared up into his black eyes she hardly recognised the fiery eyes of the woman who was reflected there. She felt like she had completely lost the person she had thought she always had been and as she drew her hips against his repeatedly she really didn't care...

"You're beautiful Lauren..." He told her and it was the most surprising thing he had said to her so far – more so than the cold truths he had told her about his job because it showed him to be a man of feeling.

"Don't spoil it..." She whispered as she caught his lips for a tantalising kiss.

Her comment seemed to be all he needed, all he wanted to hear – he needed to know that she was Ok with the way he did things, despite the fact that he would never change. Her comment just spurred him on and encouraged him not to get any romantic delusions about they had as he increased his pace and pushed her to the limits of her sanity. Soon she was thinking of nothing but the fact that he filled her so completely and the sound of 'her' name as it fell from his lips in the charged silence.

"Please Ian... Please." She begged and just like that his self control broke and he was loathe to do anything but acquiesce her request.

He drove down into her with fearsome possession and the last thing he heard was the sound of his name echoing around the room before he exploded, desire filling his mind completely.

She watched him as they laid together in the aftermath of their time together and she wondered if he was ever going to acknowledge her presence next to him. He was laid on his back staring up at the white washed ceiling and breathing heavily.

She considered what had happened between them, the roughness and yet the honesty of what they had done. There had been no pretences(apart from that she was hiding her identity from him of course) he had wanted her and she realised, she had wanted him and they had just done something about that want and need. It was as simple as that. There had been no declarations of love and no emotions other than desire to complicate their relationship. It was just sex. Only it wasn't. In the morning she would get up and he would be gone, out on another mission and when she was sure the house was quiet and she was not being watched by that hawk O'Shaughnessy who was always so suspicious of her, she would use the secure line and ensure that she was connected to Sean before she told him about Doyle's son and latest kill... she would use this new intimacy to the advantage of the case...

After a while, he turned to her giving her yet another lopsided smile which she found strangely endearing and she returned it – trying to make it as genuine as possible despite the fact that her stomach was fluttering with butterflies of nervousness at what this new avenue of her undercover identity meant for her, as she thought about the parts of herself she would lose for the sake of this murdering bastard...

"Come here." He instructed opening his arms to her and indicating that she should cuddle in close to him.

She obeyed, not least because she needed someone to hold her shaking body and offer her some comfort – even if it was the man that she was working to betray. He wrapped his arm loosely around her waist and she rested her right hand against his shoulder as she placed her head over his heart. She closed her eyes and listened to the beating of his heart, somewhat surprised that he actually still had one and she felt him beginning to draw concentric circles on her arm, almost like she had always imagined the man who loved her would do.

"You see love I told you, everything's going to change." He told her, his voice sleep leaden.

"Mm hmm you're right." She muttered sleepily.

"You're my girl... my Lauren..." He told her, placing a small kiss to her forehead.

She said nothing as she felt his grip on her arm relax as sleep overtook him... There were no form of articulation that she could conjure which would describe what had happened tonight, the thing that he had just summed up in five words...

Emily Prentiss was gone. That was the cold, harsh truth and yet she couldn't voice it.

* * *

In the eerie period before dawn when the only sound that could be heard was that of his heavy breathing as the contentment he felt allowed him to sleep and the blackness of the night surrounded her, she held her breath as a solitary silent tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek. That tear symbolised a realisation. It didn't matter how much Emily Prentiss had fought for survival in this world, in his world, in the end she had failed to stop him from getting to her and in this way she had been just as naive as Gemma Miller and all the girls before her perhaps more so because she had started to forget why she was here. She had been defeated and he had killed her. In the still of the night the headstrong, principled agent had been murdered, in her place laid a woman she would never truly know. The terrifying truth was that she had become Lauren Reynolds...

* * *

**Well there it is... **

**I hope you liked my interpretation of how Emily became Lauren. As you'll see, I embellished a few details about Ian Doyle's past and added in Amelia for example, I hope that those details worked as part of this story. **

**I must also mention that I used the historical facts of the treatment of Catholics in Ireland to add to the background of this, I studied the history enough to know that things were awful so I hope that I have used those details with respect... Irish history is a particular interest of mine and I couldn't resist a little chance to include it. **

**I would love to know what you thought of this because your comments always make me smile. **

**I have another Emily/ Doyle one shot planned called **_**Double Jeopardy **_**but I think I'm going to start a new multi chaptered Hotch/ Emily story and come back to E/D after I see what people thought. **

**I really hope you enjoyed this and will forgive any minor editorial mistakes if there are any still remaining after my editing session. **

**Thanks for reading. **

**Love, **

_**X~Michelle~X**_


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